PYT
by Chaeungyeol
Summary: In the dim light ahead, Levi spots the lone boy standing against one of the walls with a beer nestled in his hands, so far standing still, but wide eyes trained on Levi. Levi only spots him because one of the neon lamps shortly flicker its attention to him, gliding over his form. However, the short tease is enough for him to know that he has found his entertainment for the night.


Pretty Young Thing.

Kindly settle the reading format as 1/2 for a better reading experience.

Thank you.

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><p>The light is dim from where Levi sits by the bar, taking a swig of the shot he ordered. He does not down it in one go, but savors the taste of strong alcohol sizzling on his tongue. The sight ahead is blurred by flashing neon lights and fake smoke wafting back and forth between a dancing crowd, surrounded by heavy bass and erratic tunes.<p>

Levi's temples are thrumming in his ears, bordering a mild headache. He cannot care less though, tipping his chin when he downs the rest of the liquid in his now empty shot glass. The bartender behind him murmurs something cheerful, and it is a woman with an interesting cleavage and a flirtatious smile. ''On the house,'' she says and slides Levi the third free shot of tonight. Levi says nothing but gives her what resembles a phantom smirk as he arches his brows, tipping his head again when he bottoms this shot in one go.

''Thanks,'' he says dryly, but with enough rasp it makes the woman jut her bosom out and smile once more.

Levi knows he is good looking. Given his well-proportioned body, the permanent circles underneath his eyes resembling that of a bedroom look, he knows he does not have to look for long to find someone willing. It has been a while since he has last done this, but this is where he can let himself loose though, in this familiar place owned by one of his close friends – earlier friend with benefits, Erwin.

Levi himself is well known around this place, anonymously, of course, going under the cover name Crow. He performs here and sings his throat raw every now and then, but only on a monthly occasion. The crowd loves him, but he keeps himself sated and away most of the time. One can only recognize him by his undercut, his eyes and the tattoos, save for his velvet voice once singing. In the darkness of the room, no one can see his face clearly enough, and those who can are not ones likely to recognize him, since the people attending here are delinquents or ones not far off. Nonetheless, even if they were familiar with his daylight side, no one is likely to recognize him anyway given the amount of kohl around his eyes.

He is wearing a black, loose wife beater with the end tucked in a pair of tight leather pants – a belt strung around his hips to make it gouge out a bit. The loose effect makes it display his toned stomach and chest every now and then when he leans forward and lets it hang off his form, given that the shirt is cut under the armpits and dips down low. His arms are bared, showing off long draws of ink scribbled down his biceps – ink he usually hides behind an expensive blazer, a shirt and a tie once put in floor fifty-seventh in a skyscraper, settled in a leather chair behind mahogany tables.

An arm slings around his neck and drags him closer. ''You're on in five minutes,'' Hange yells into his ear over the deafening music - and before Levi can snarl at them for their imprudence, they bounce off and disappears between the dancing people.

Levi runs a hand through his hair, emitting a low tune under his breath in slight annoyance. So far, no one has caught his eyes. He usually looks forward to a good fuck after singing, but the crowd is boring tonight. They are all the same in his eyes – and they all stare at him in the same way, undressing him with their eyes. Nothing new under the sky.

Minutes later, he inhales sharply and does a little voice rehearsal in private, standing behind the stage. Some people pat him on the shoulder – people he are familiar with and used to run around town to making trouble with when he was just a college student.

There is something special about the rush he gets once standing onstage – a certain kind of freedom from the rawness of the circumstances, to be surrounded by people who throw their bodies back and forth without a care as he sings for them. With the light settled on him and the people jutting their hands up in the air as they scream his name – his cover name, Crow, the world seems less rotten and far more entertaining, even if it just for a while.

The tunes set in and the usual band behind him starts up with scratchy tunes and a low bass. Seconds later, Levi opens his mouth and his voice surges through the amplifiers and runs over the crowd, and they yell louder and louder until it nearly deafens the song itself. Girls on front wave their arms and chants Levi's name while they make grabby motions. Some stand in the background and enjoys the commotion, downing alcohol with one another.

Everything seems out of the ordinary.

That is, until Levi sees it.

Sees him.

In the dim light ahead, Levi spots the lone boy standing against one of the walls with a beer nestled in his hands, so far standing still, but wide eyes trained on Levi.

Levi only spots him because one of the neon lamps shortly flicker its attention to him, gliding over his form. However, the short tease is enough for Levi to know that he has found his entertainment for the night.

Moreover, this one seems far more interesting than anyone he has ever put his sultry eyes upon.

Because the boy cannot be anything close to a troublemaker as he stands there, tucked in holed jeans, dirty sneakers, a simple white t-shirt, and an open cardigan. He holds his beer with two hands, and rather than looking like someone who is entertained, he looks like a lost puppy gaping at the happenings in front of him. Not that Levi can see much, but the boy's stance tells him everything. He cannot be a day over twenty – a college student. A boy living in the years of experimenting.

Something clicks in Levi's head, and he mutters a soft sound of approval when his lips are off the microphone in the instrumental pause.

When he sings again, he changes his stance, and the crowd notices the difference when the next song thrums through the club – a sensual but rough song, with Levi thrusting his hips slightly to the beat as he fondles the handle of the microphone and closes his eyes when singing. When he opens them again, he makes sure to linger his eyes on the boy standing a little far off and almost in the corner. He makes sure to lean forward and furrow his brows as he lets a moan tune in with the next sentence, gaze shamelessly taking in whatever inch of the boy he can reach.

The best thing is always when they notice. It is when the boy's shoulders hunch up and he looks around vividly, as if not believing the situation. It is when he fidgets where he stands, gaze going from the stage to his feet - not knowing how to react, a nervous smile playing on his lips – a smile Levi can barely see but registers anyway.

Levi does not slack, and he keeps the rest of the song sensual with his low voice and indirect promises within the lyrics.

When he ends the last song, he lets his lips linger against the rough surface of the microphone before stepping back; flaunting a stage smirk that he only puts on display to charm the lot.

Even though he has to dry off the sweat beaded on his forehead, has to take off the music gear and mutely acknowledge at least six fans once coming out, the boy is still standing where Levi last saw him.

The crowd has returned to dancing as a DJ takes place instead – room turning back to being filled with heavy beats and thumping noises.

Levi is good at mingling with the crowd once putting fortitude in something, attention lingering to a certain somewhere as he makes his way through the people grinding against each other on the dance floor.

All the while, from the other end of the room, the boy keeps his eyes on his shabby sneakers, rubbing the heels against the floor in timidity, back lined up the wall.

He looks up when he feels someone hover in front of him, and nearly spills his beer when Levi presses a hand against the wall, just next to the boy's head. Levi leans in, and he is at least a half head taller than the boy. ''I can only assume you're new here,'' is the first thing Levi says, tilting his head as he stares at the boy and his plump lips. He thinks of how good they would look wrapped around the girth of his cock.

The boy, as far as Levi can see, has teal eyes and slender eyelashes. His mouth is shaped in a little O, as if considering what to say. The taller easily notices how the proximity is new to the boy, at least considering that the boy must be foreign with the both of them being males.

Levi knows when to back off in case he makes miscalculations and corners someone who is not in for it – but he just knows that he hit this one right on the spot. He can see it, judging by the way the boy's cheeks fume lightly with a pretty blush, how the boy lounges a little forward and off the wall to meet Levi's front.

''I-'' the boy mumbles, swallowing heavily before continuing: ''I'm- I got recommended to be here- um- to be here when, when- when Crow performs.'' His words are clipped and soft, and Levi has to lean closer to hear him properly. Judging by the smell of alcohol in the boy's breath, the boy must be past tipsy by now.

''What's your name?'' Levi asks, but he knows he does not need to know. He never does, so he barely lets the boy answer as he trails a hand down the boys side, sliding gloved fingers underneath the white t-shirt for a brief touch. The boy shudders by the touch, eyes shortly closed. ''You pretty young thing,'' Levi murmurs and with his other hand he pushes some scruffy bangs out of the boys' eyes. ''Call me Levi,'' he says instead, and the boy nods one more time than what is necessary – eager to please.

Warmth licks the inside of Levi's stomach, a heat he can barely suppress as he grits his teeth. If he could, he would take the boy on the floor right here and now, or against the wall. Anything is profitable - anything is good enough as long as he can bury himself inside the boy to the hilt, see those eyelashes flutter as he fucks him good and hard.

Levi takes a hold of the boy's wrist, and he decides he will call him Pretty Thing for now. ''Come with me, pretty thing,'' he whispers against the lobe of the boy's ear.

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><p>He has no patience left when they reach the hall. Anything will do, so the next time he sees a door, he does not hesitate to yank it open and haul the boy inside. The boy stumbles ahead and wavers on his feet, looking around.<p>

It turns out they have found one of the private bathrooms. It is less stained than the ones with stalls, but is still dirty overall. A voice in Levi's head notifies him of the room, of the improperness of the circumstances as a smell of dust and piss lingers in his nostrils. However, nothing is as filthy as the moan Pretty Thing emits when Levi corners him and presses him up against the wall, kissing him open-mouthed and hard.

Nothing overpowers the feeling of Pretty Thing's fingers digging into Levi's back as he stands on tiptoes to circle his arms around Levi's neck, dragging him closer. He is already moaning Levi's name in a quick mantra, erection digging through his jeans and into the start of Levi's thigh when he bucks up and ruts against the taller. ''Please,'' he whines, and Levi uses force to push him in place, sliding one hand up to his hair from behind to yank his head back and bare his throat.

''Not so innocent anymore, what?'' Levi murmurs against his throat, and the boy makes a wanton noise when Levi mouths the contour of his throat with his mouth, sucking hickeys there with hard draws. Levi grazes his teeth there too, growling a: ''a slut, is that what you are?''

''Fucking slut,'' he growls and the boy's moaning turns frantic, answering with breathy: ''yes, yes, yes''.

Levi releases his hold on him, watching as the boy leans his own weight against the wall, complaining about the sudden withdrawal.

''Then do what a slut does best,'' Levi says, and he unbuckles his own belt to unzip his pants. The boy's eyes widen, but he is quick to drop down on his knees, scrambling close to stand in front of Levi. It is all dirty – the floor is dirty, the look the boy gives him is downright sinful, but Levi cannot care less right now when the boy eagerly takes Levi's cock out of his boxers, and the first thing that hits the cockhead is a warm breath, followed by soft lips kissing the tip.

The boy moans against the head when he wraps his lips around it, dragging his tongue underneath the foreskin before taking more of the girth in. Levi cannot keep himself from bucking into the warmth engulfing him, gritting his teeth as he takes a hold of Pretty thing's hair, running a hand through the scruffy locks.

He throws his head back and groans when the boy takes more in, sloppy but meticulous while drawing his tongue along the underside in quick draws. ''What a good cocksucker – such a good slut,'' Levi hums and the boy moans around him. Levi thinks the boy is good compared to what he should be given his earlier timidity and reactions to close proximity, but it might also just be the alcohol deeming itself present.

He makes the boy halt and draws back, and the boy looks up at him with wide, questioning eyes. ''Open up,'' Levi says. Pretty Thing obliges, and Levi watches as he slowly presses his cockhead against the lips, dragging it there before sliding into the warmth again. He does a slow thrust to test the waters, and the boy only half-coughs when he goes too far. Seconds later, the boy tugs in his gloved hand, signaling he wants more – faster, harder.

Therefore, Levi gives in, and he starts thrusting in and out in a pace that starts out slow but becomes faster, turning into short snaps of his hips. The boy groans and opens up wide for him, and Levi was so, so right, because those thick lips look too good around his cock – so pliant and willing.

When Levi feels his orgasm draw near, he draws himself back and takes the boy by the collar, hauling him up. He manhandles him over to the sink counter, pushing a palm between the boy's narrow shoulder blades to make him bend over, the boy's chest almost pressed against the marble counter and face close to the mirror.

''Want me to take you here?'' Levi asks, and the boy nods hectically, bidding a ''yes, Levi, I want it here- please-'' as Levi yanks his jeans down, followed by his boxers so that they bunch around his knees. Levi pushes his cock between the split of the pert buttocks, arching his hips to grind his pelvis against the boy from behind. **''What are you?''** he asks, and when the boy does not answer and only moans, he draws a palm back and gives one buttock a harsh slap that has Pretty Thing whining. ''**What** are you?'' Levi repeats, and the boy stutters, jaw slack: ''I'm- I'm a slut-'' he whines,'' I'm your slut,'' he nearly sobs, pressing his ass back against the other.

The answer satisfies Levi, so he pulls off his gloves and puts two fingers in his mouth, wetting them with spit. He is not one to be gentle, but the boy pays no mind when Levi presses the tip of two digits against his entrance.

The boy is tight but does not budge to it, but only continues pressing himself back to meet the motions, even though he wills out a hiss between his teeth. The sight is on display in the mirror, and it only makes Levi ruthless with his fingers. He scissors his fingers inside the boy until asked for more, and when he has prepped him enough, he draws them out and leads his cock to the entrance.

Levi leans close and with the hand he did not use for prepping, he grabs the younger around his jaw and urges him to look up. ''Look at your face, Pretty Thing,'' he says, and just as he does so, he presses the tip of his cock inside the other, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Pretty thing writhes underneath him and moans wantonly, only one eye open as he looks himself in the mirror – taking in his flustered cheeks, his disheveled hair, his open mouth and the drool leaking there. Yes- yes, I- yes-'' he answers obediently, swallowing heavily when Levi draws back and slams into him again with a ruthless usage of force.

''You look so good for me,'' Levi groans, and his hand trails down from Pretty Thing's jaw to linger on his stomach – under his shirt to lever his torso a bit up despite he still lounges on the counter. Pretty Thing helps himself and lifts his torso high enough until Levi can press his front to his back, aligning them as he buries his face in the crook of his neck, thrusting into him. He does it hard enough so that the boy's hipbones dig into the cold counter. The younger has no complains, because Levi seems to find a right angle.

It does not take long before the boy is making incoherent noises and strings of words, head thrown back as he grits his teeth and stutters out breathy sentences. Levi fucks into him so that the sound of skin against skin fills the room. The boy makes a particularly light noise before furrowing his brows and leaning forward as he comes, slack-jawed and breathless. Levi makes another few thrusts before halting too, pressing himself close as he comes inside the boy with a groan.

That night, Levi goes home with a strain in his legs he has not felt in a long time. After they were done, they had taken a break where they had just stared each other in the eyes. Levi wants nothing personal, he knows, but he cannot help but to feel a little at loss because he knows it will never work out. Luckily, the boy is still tipsy enough to leave it all be, although complaining a bit when Levi ushers him out of the room once they have cleaned themselves up. It is all sloppy, but that is how it always is. Levi even forgot to use protection, and he can only find himself to blame.

He spends the next morning with a hangover that has him groaning into his sheets, and he internally mourns because he could as well have invited Pretty Thing home to use him as a body pillow.

It is unlikely he is to meet the other again, so he nurses himself with a lot of coffee and at least two pain killers.

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><p>''Sir Ackerman,'' Mobilt knocks on the door and comes forth. Levi is standing behind his office table and chair with his back turned to the door, inspecting some papers in his hands and occasionally gazing at the sight of the busy city outside.<p>

''Yes?'' Levi answers, somewhat gruffly. It has been two days since he met Pretty Thing, and the hangover has still gotten the best of him.

Mobilt clears his throat. ''Your new assistant has arrived. He has been through trials and has been approved of so far. The final decision is, however, up to you.''

Levi makes a noncommittal noise. ''Of course.'' He does still not turn around.

He hears Mobilt leave, and soon the sound of shuffling footsteps resounds in the large room. These footsteps do not belong to Mobilt, Levi knows.

''Sir Ackerman,'' a new voice says, and the voice is soft and boyish, but at the same time mature. ''My name is Eren Jaeger and I'm the…, I'm the new assistant here. I hope to please you,'' he says, and there is a certain timidity to it that Levi finds familiar.

Levi finally turns around, but his eyes are still on the papers. He does look up when he hears a sharp inhale from the other man in the room.

When Levi looks up, it is none other than Pretty Thing standing there – who is, apparently, not a boy, but a man with the looks of a college student, now tucked in expensive clothing.

Eren's eyes widen, and they are far more astounding in daylight. An endearing blush spreads on his cheeks and he looks caught off guard.

Levi is just as surprised, but he smirks instead. ''Oh,'' he downright purrs, ''isn't that my Pretty young Thing?''


End file.
